


Late

by Katybug1992



Series: Tumblr Prompts [81]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Protective Jack, Racer is the baby, big bros Jack and Crutchie, foster family AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 16:37:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18183098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katybug1992/pseuds/Katybug1992
Summary: Jack struggles with Racer growing up and doesn't express that in the best way.





	Late

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a quote from Roseanne.

Race was only five minutes late, the subway was delayed worse than normal, it was out of his control.

“Where were you?” Jack demanded as Racer closed the front door.

“I was out with someone.” Racer replied, shrugging off his coat and toeing off his shoes, already not liking his brother’s attitude and beginning to gear up for yet another fight.

“It better not be who I think it is.” Jack glared, crossing his arms and leaning against the couch.

“Oh, yes, it is.” Race grinned, turning to face Jack fully, “The evil Spot with the fake ID that you don’t want me to see.”

“The one you’re not ALLOWED to see.” Jack fired back.

“You’re not dad,” Race rolled his eyes, shoulder past Jack to head to his room.

“Yeah, well, maybe I’ll tell dad you’re dating a drug dealer.” Jack challenged, “Don’t think he’d be happy to have you continue seeing Spot after that.”

“You need to stop talking to me right now.” Racer growled, glaring at the older boy and struggling to calm himself down, both of them not noticing Crutchie had entered the room.

“I’m trying to help you!” Jack shot back, “Conlon is bad news. He’s a player, on top of his criminal activity. You have a future that I don’t want to see you throw away for some low-life thug!”

Race threw his hands up and let out a frustrated yell before heading to his room and slamming the door shut.

“Nice.” Crutchie drawled, rolling his eyes and following Racer. Turning back to Jack he said, “Maybe take a walk? Cool down before dad gets home?”

Jack looked ready to argue, but hearing the thumps now coming from Racer’s room, he grabbed his coat and walked out the door.

Taking a centering breath, Crutchie headed for the youngest brother’s room, wincing as he listened to Racer throwing the rubber ball harder than usual against the wall of his bedroom, a habit he had in order to get his anger out. The wall had a few dents, but it was better than Racer getting into fights to get his anger out.

Crutchie didn’t bother knocking before opening the door, knowing he wouldn’t get answer.

“Go away.” Race replied after glancing over briefly before returning to his game of one-sided catch.

Ignoring him, Crutchie moved over to Racer’s bed, grabbing the boy on his way past and pushing him down onto the bed, arranging him both in the familiar position they had taken since they were kids whenever Racer was upset.

“You know, he has a hard time expressing his concern for you.” Crutchie finally spoke.

“Look,” Racer huffed, “if you’re just going to defend Jack, you can leave. I’m not apologizing to him.”

“I’m not asking you to.” Crutchie responded, “He just has a hard time dealing with you growing up. You’re a senior this year. It feels like only yesterday that you were brought here as a hyper-active toddler.”

Crutchie smiled as that got a chuckle out of Racer, who pouted over at the red-head, “Stop. I’m trying to be angry at him.”

“You like Spot?” Crutchie prompted.

“Yeah.” Racer nodded, “He’s….he’s not the person he wants people to see.”

“I’m going to need a little more if I’m going to be able to sway Jack.” Crutchie chuckled.

“You serious?” Race gave him a weary look.

“Yeah,” the red-head grinned down at the younger boy.

“Everyone else sees me as your little brother. You and Jack graduated four years ago, but you’re still legends at school. Spot sees me as me, as Tony. Not Racer the foster kid. Not Racer the genius. Just Tony. He encouraged me to apply for Columbia. I never would have if it wasn’t for him. I would have been content at settling for NYU….no offense.”

“None taken,” Crutchie laughed, “While Jack and I would have been happy that you chose to follow in our footsteps, you are destined for better than that. You know, Denton started the Ivy Fund for you when we found you reading, and understanding, ‘War and Peace’ when you were eight.”

“Spot believes in me, too.” Race replied, looking at his lap, “He goes out of his way not to distract me. If I have a test coming up or a paper due, he makes sure not to pressure me into hanging out with him.”

“But he does have his downsides, right?” Crutchie asked, “He is four years older than you. He graduated with me and Jack. We do know what he’s like.”

“Yeah, and it’s been four years since Jack actually talked to him or has seen him.” Racer fired back, “Four years can change someone.” 

“There’s more.” Crutchie prompted, laughing at the exasperated look he got in return. He, Jack, and Denton were all very open with their emotions, eager to talk about what was happening and how it made them feel. But Racer, from the day he was brought into their lives, was someone who buried his emotions, opting to hid behind a carefully constructed mask. His father and brothers knew how to get him to talk, but it involved carefully deconstructing the mask so that Racer could easily slip it back on.

“His sister’s daughter takes dance class at the studio I work at. I had her in my class. That’s how we met. A couple months ago, during the summer day camp, he came to pick her up. We talked a little, but I turned him down. That was our routine for about a week. He would come pick up Annie, flirt a little, ask me out, and then leave dateless. Finally, he came in on a day that Annie wasn’t in class. He said that he knew what Jack must have told me about him, or what I picked up, but he wanted a chance to show me who he was and if I didn’t like what I saw then he would stop asking me out.” Racer spoke slowly, not looking over at his brother.

“And did you?” Crutchie prompted.

“Yeah, I did.” Race huffed out a laugh, “He took me to fucking Coney Island, then showed me where he grew up. He told me about his family, how his mom took him and his sister away in the middle of the night once she had saved up enough. The money from his jobs, it goes to help his mom and sister. Annie is so bright. He told me that he sees a lot of potential in her, the same way people see potential in me. We were at the top of the ferris wheel and I just….I told him about my first family.”

It was always “first family” when Racer talked about his biological family. They weren’t his real family, never his real family. They were all heavily involved in mafia activity, his grandfather a boss of a minor family operating in Bensonhurst, the most Italian neighborhood in Brooklyn. When the FBI busted the operation, all of Racer’s family were taken into custody and he was given over to Child Services. Denton had been the first person the case worker had called to take in the toddle. Denton had been careful to keep him sheltered but ended up sitting Racer down and telling him about his family, how they were all given long jail sentences. They would occasionally write, asking for Racer to come in and see them. Race always refused, something that greatly relieved Denton, but he did write back and give his mother small details about his life. However, when he wrote to her telling her that he had a boyfriend, she never wrote back. While he was disappointed, he wasn’t as sad as he thought he would be.

Spot had been pleased to learn that Racer was a fellow Brooklynite, even if Spot had grown up with his Russian father in the Russian neighborhood of Brighton Beach. Every other weekend, the couple would spend an entire Saturday exploring different parts of Brooklyn, the borough that they were born in, but didn’t really know.

Crutchie was silent for a minute, before saying, “Okay, I’m sold.”

“What?” Race’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“I’ll talk to Jack, get him to see reason.” 

Race grinned widely up at his brother, “Thank you!”

“Just do me one small favor in return.” Crutchie smiled softly down at Race, “Slow down, okay? Be our little brother for a little longer, okay? You’re already taller than both of us, let us worry about you.”

Race just grinned up at his brother and grabbed the book of his nightstand, opening up to read as Crutchie re-arranged them into a more comfortable position as he pulled his phone out, opening up Facebook to do a little discreet stalking of Spot. He wanted to have a little more evidence to back up Race’s version of Spot.


End file.
